


Unexpected

by justgrace



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: AU, F/M, Fluff, major changes to accommodate my love of Arya and Gendry, okay i need to focus on school now
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-11
Updated: 2015-06-11
Packaged: 2018-04-03 22:53:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,729
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4117702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justgrace/pseuds/justgrace
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU - Ned Stark is King in the North. Robert Baratheon is King in the South. They visit each other often and have been for years. Their children know each other well. Perhaps a marriage between the house would strengthen the kingdom? Ned Stark isn’t pushing for this, he knows his daughters love the North too much, but perhaps Prince Gendry loves the North too.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unexpected

**Author's Note:**

> Gendry is the second son born to Robert and Cersi Baratheon. Robb, Rickon, Catelyn all died in the war. Jon Snow is Ned Stark’s bastard son. Bran can walk. Arya is loved by the North more than anyone so why shouldn't her father let her rule!
> 
> I changed so many things sorry. Not 100% happy with it but...here you go.

Gendry rides with Myrcella during the entire trip to Winterfell. He loves riding with Myrcella, neither of them are great at riding, though Gendry has more practice than Myrcella. After the first day Cella is very tired, and sore all over. She insisted on riding again the next day, she is strong. 

Myrcella is practically bouncing off her horse as the arrive at Winterfell. Gendry sees that the Starks and a small group of men waiting for them. King Stark, Jon Snow, Prince Bran, Princess Sansa, and Princess Arya all stand together. The Starks look stunning, a picture of the North. Gendry loves the North.

The party arrives noisily, just like Robert likes to, just like Gendry hates to. After a few days they are settled in and Myrcella is spending her days with Sansa. Robert and Ned speak behind closed doors. Gendry spares with Jon and Bran, and rides with them and Arya. Gendry likes the Starks. The children have of the royal family, save Joffery, have an agreement which makes their time together much more enjoyable. When they are together, they are expected to be nothing except themselves. To him they are simply; Jon, Bran, Sansa, and Arya and they extend the same courtesy to himself, Myrcella, and Tommen.

Heading down to the yard after breakfast Gendry sees that everyone is already hard at work. Bran is waiting for him as Jon had escorted the ladies from the breakfast hall whispering about something. They begin their sparing practice. 

Princess Arya sidles up half way through the fight. She is clad in leather sparing gear clearly hand made for her. It clings to her chest tightly almost like a corset, but not. The thick leather is manipulated to cover her breasts but stops just under her collar bones. The gear protects her breasts, ribs, and stomach with intricate leather pieces all sewn with great care. Arya’s arms are free and her hair is braided. Some smaller, narrow strips of leather hang off her hips like a skirt. Gendry thinks that it’s the closest thing to a dress Arya has worn all week. The words ‘warrior princess’ come to his mind at the sight of her.

Gendry highly suspects that Sansa has made the outfit. The Starks have long given up trying to tame Arya’s wild ways. Jon Snow, Ned’s bastard son and a very good friend of Gendry’s, is training to be part of King Stark’s King’s guard and had confided this fact to Gendry a few years ago. Jon had told him yesterday that Arya would be down for training tomorrow, she had taken a couple days off to spend with Myrcella at their father’s request.

She calls out pointers to him and Bran, from the side lines. Gendry ignores them. Bran does not. He watches the youngest Stark obediently change his stance and strike again. Gendry isn’t ready for the hit and it connected with his forearm. Gendry knows that in a real fight he would have lost his hand. He strikes back with vengeance but Bran blocks him laughing. After a few more swings Gendry has him. Bran in on the ground. He groans once before taking Gendry’s outstretched hand. 

“I lost but you should still listen to her Gendry.” He says. Gendry rolls his eyes. 

“Water?” Gendry asks. Bran nods and they walk over to where Arya is standing. Gendry tries very hard not to let his eyes linger on the beautiful girl in front of him. He’s always had a soft spot for Arya. He doesn’t expect her to hand him the goblet on the bench but she does. Arya never does what anyone expects of her. She hands Bran his as well. 

“I told you yesterday no get your feet tangled up Bran,” Arya berates him, the young boy laughs. 

“Not all of us are as good as you sister.” Arya smiles widely at the compliment. 

“Though, I am glad someone can take direction,” she looks pointedly at him. Gendry rolls his eyes. “You, your Grace, shouldn’t look where you are going to strike. A good opponent will notice.” She said ‘your Grace’ cause she knows he doesn’t like it. 

“I did pretty well, my Princess, considering someone was distracting me by shouting their head off,” Gendry replies back. 

“Don’t call me that,” she hisses. “Bran you fancy a round with a real opponent?” Arya asks scowling at Gendry. 

“Okay.” He picks up his sparing sword and Arya with draws one from the pile. Gendry leans back on the railing to watch. He has to admit Arya is good; her size makes her quick and she is delicate with the blade, like his Uncle Jamie always tells Gendry he should be. Bran lands some hits on her. They are hard. He can hear the slap of skin. Arya just laughs and tells him ‘good one.’

Arya slips seamlessly from sparing to teaching. She reminds Bran of his feet, and tells him to keep moving. It’s dizzying to watch. Arya begins to move faster until she is nothing but a blur. He doesn’t see her last hit and then Bran is on the ground. Arya is standing over him sword at his throat. He hears a cheer from behind him. Gendry can hear his men whispering but the Northerns don’t look surprised. They cheer for Arya. Apparently, more then a few men had stopped work to watch the show; Baratheons and Starks alike.

“You are dead brother,” she teases before offering him her hand. Bran takes it, unabashed by Arya’s defeat, and smiles. 

“Getting better though,” he says grabbing her arm. There are a few red marks that will surely be bruises soon. He doesn’t apologize though Gendry feels that maybe he should because as they approach he can see a few of the marks already darkening. 

“So you next then?” Arya asks Gendry. He shakes his head automatically. “Come on!!”

“Looking for a fight?” A voice calls from the side. Gendry turns his head to see Jon walking across the yard. Jon smiles at his sister picking up one of the wooden swords. 

“Arya?” Jon says. He looks to her and she is smiling at her brother. “How about a round with me?” Jon eyes are set on Arya, he is asks the question like the person standing in front of him isn’t his very small sister. 

“Jon…” Gendry begins. 

“If you say one thing about ‘ladies’ I’ll poke you with my needle. Mind you, mine isn’t small like Sansa’s.” Arya growls from beside him. Gendry know she is referring to her sword. Jon had it made for her tenth name day. “Come on brother.” Arya races to the middle of the field her wooden sword in hand. Gendry looks questioningly at Bran as Arya and Jon laugh about something.

“Do they spare often? I thought she trained with you.” He asks leaning against the fence watching the small girl and Jon move about gracefully. 

“Arya doesn’t train with me,” Bran says. “She trains with Jon sometimes but Syrio is her instructor. She trained with me at first, but that was years ago. Why?”

“It’s just surprising is all,” Gendry answers. 

“Your surprise is…surprising.” Bran tells him. “You know that Arya has always spared, she has since she was little. She’s better than most, actually.” 

“But now… she’s six and ten… she’s a Princess. I thought she might…move on. ” Unconsciously Gendry’s eyes fall over Arya’s body taking in her slight breasts and hips.

“Arya is a Princess Gendry, but she is also a warrior. Men can be knights and Kings so why can’t she be both as well?” Bran is right, as always.

His eyes turn back to the show in front of him. Jon is twirling with his sword trying to copy a movement Arya has just shown him. He is not as graceful as Arya but he is close. He reaches an arm out and grabs her hand. Her brother pulls her to him and places a kiss on her cheek before letting her go again. Arya has a slight blush in her cheeks when she looks up, her eyes determine. 

The mood changes as they begin to spare. It’s more aggressive than Arya and Bran, both of them land hard blows. Again, like Bran, Jon never holds back. One if his blows catches her by surprise and she falls backwards. Gendry feels his body move to help her but she is back on her feet roll gracefully though covered in dirt. She attacks with gusto her sword flashing and her hair wiping around until. They still. Both have blades at each other’s throats. Both are smiling.

“Yield?” Arya asks. 

“Yield,” Jon answers. They lower their weapons. Jon smiles and leans over to brush some dirt from her face as they come back towards Bran and himself. Both are sweating though the air is still cold.

“You all right?” Jon reaches for Arya’s arm. There are scratches from the dirt and a little blood. Gendry sees Arya shrug. 

“If anyone asks I’ll say Gendry did it,” Arya grins at Gendry, who rolls his eyes. 

“Can you hand me that water?” Arya asks him. He does. She unceremoniously pours it over her sweaty face and then onto her arm. Arya throws the rest of the water towards Jon.

“Hey!” Jon says indigently. 

“Oh chill Jon, I didn’t get it on you precious hair.” Arya laughs, so does Gendry. Suddenly there is a whistle. They turn their heads to see Maester Leuwin eyeing Bran.

“That’s my cue,” He says, taking his leave with a smile. 

“So, you next then Gendry?” Arya asks. He doesn’t move. He can feel the Jon and Arya’s eyes on him.

“Go on then Gendry,” Jon tells him. “It’s always good to try something new.” Gendry is surprised that his friends is so open to the idea of him sparing with his little sister, Princess of Winterfell. 

“I don’t know.” 

“Please Gendry! I need an actual challenge!” Arya says. She grips his arm giving him a pouty look. 

“Fine,” he says grabbing the sword Jon hold out to him. He stalks off to the middle of the ring. Arya joins him after a moment with a different sword in hand. It’s Bravosi, he recognizes it, small and thin. Fat lot it will do against his sword, Gendry thinks. 

“Ready?” he asks her. Arya lowers her stance. There is a smirk playing around her small lips. 

“Scared?” she returns. Gendry chuckles. They begin.

Gendry is holding back. He is playing defensively and Arya is getting frustrated. She is quick moving around him. He doesn’t raise his sword to attack he simply tries to block all her blows. Some land on him. She pokes him; in the arm, shoulder, leg, butt. ‘Seven hells’ he thinks as she starts forward again. 

“Stop.” She twirls. “Holding.” She repeats the motion. “Back.” Again. Arya growls at him, he blocks the blows. “This isn’t a defensive exercise.” She tries again. He doesn’t waver. 

She stops. She is still now looking him full in the face. Her eyes burning with anger. He’d hoped she would get frustrated enough and give up by now but she is determined. Her lips are pursed in a thin line, her grey eyes fierce now. Gendry knew this would make her angry but he just can’t do it. He can’t look at her as a target, he can’t consider her that way. He can feel the eyes of the people in the yard on him. Arya doesn’t seem to notice. She walks towards his her hands raised slightly. 

“Why won’t you fight me?” Arya ask him. Her voice is calm, not as he expected. Gendry doesn’t answer for a moment. “Do you think me weak?” Gendry swallows.

“No,” he answers.

“Do you think me incompetent with a sword?” 

“No.”

“Do you think I cannot take your hits?” she asks. 

“No.” Gendry answers. It’s the truth. He knows that Arya is strong. 

“Right then. What is your problem?” Arya is staring him full in the face, and is standing very close. Gendry knows that her Jon is watching closely but he doesn’t come over to interrupt, though Gendry wishes he would. 

“I don’t like thinking of you as a target okay?” Arya leans in and smacks the back of his head quiet unexpectedly.

“You worry to much stupid,” Arya tells him. “Come on now.” Gendry stares at Arya. He sets his jaw and raises his sword. Arya smiles. He starts forward. He strikes tentatively. Arya doges it easily. She smiles.

They start to dance and after a few minutes he is staring to sweat. Arya is smiling gleefully. Gendry likes her smile. The first time he land a hit on her arm Gendry pauses and it’s enough time for Arya to return with one of her own to his shoulder. It stings. Arya smiles at him. He takes aim back at her. She actually laughs at his swing hopping to the left. 

He isn’t holding back now. Gendry is surprised at how equally they are matched. He is strong and powerful and she is quick and graceful. He finds that most of his attacks on her fail as she can slip away or block the blows before they are even close to her. When his sword connects with her side he is as equally surprised as she is. Gendry sees Arya wince slightly and she backs away. Gendry immediately feels horrible. He opens his mouth to say that they can stop but Arya beats him. 

“Good one,” she calls just as she had to Bran and Jon when they had landed a hit on her. Arya smiles again, there is something sinister about this smile. 

Suddenly something changes in Arya’s demeanour. She starts moving quickly, just as she had with Jon, her feet are a blur and Gendry is getting lost. He tries to continue moving with her but finds her too quick. He decides to stand still and circle on the spots. After about ten circles he his dizzy. Arya takes her chance and strikes from his left then right causing him to lose his balance and fall. Her sword is at his throat. 

“You’re dead my Prince,” Arya tells him. Gendry hears cheers from the Northern men and Arya stand back to take a bow. Gendry pulls himself to his feet and claps for her. Arya gives him a bright smile which soothes his bruised ego. 

She walks over to him. Her hair has all but fallen from her braid, her skin as a thin layer of sweat, her chest is moving lightly up and down, her eyes are kind. 

“Well done, my Princess,” Gendry says. He bows slightly and when he looks up she is rolling her eyes. 

“Very well done, indeed.” Gendry turns to see his father and King Stark standing at the edge of the sparing ring. Ned is smiling and his father….well, his father is doing something that can only be compared with leering. His eyes look at Arya’s body greedily and Gendry sees her shift her weight and grip her play sword more tightly. Despite this she walks towards the older men Gendry following, frowning. 

“Thank you father.” Arya says. “Your Grace,” she nods to the King.

“You clearly need to train more my boy.” His father says to Gendry. He resits the urge to roll his eyes. 

“No, no,” Lord Stark says shaking his head. “I am sure the Prince has a great many responsibilities. Though Arya does as well, here in the North, as you have pointed out Robert, there isn’t much to do.” Ned passes and smiles at his daughter. “She is very good though, even taken down Jory a time or too, though he says it was simply luck.” Arya’s cheeks grow pink at her father’s compliment and Gendry is suddenly very grateful for Lord Stark’s presence. 

“You miss remember father. It was I who told Jory it was luck when he took me down.” Robert booms with laughter. Arya flinches and Gendry shifts towards her brushing his hand against hers. She stiffens slightly but doesn’t pull away.

“Just like Lyanna,” Robert says to Ned. “Just as beautiful as well.” Roberts eyes take Arya in again. She lifts her chin slightly and purses her lips. Gendry brushes her hand again tapping gently at the inside of her wrist. 

“I assure you Your Grace, I am my own person, no matter how much I look like my Aunt.” Robert frowns at the statement and before he can respond Gendry cuts in. 

“Will you show my the foot work you were doing?” He asks. Arya looks ways from the King and to Gendry. Her eyes are soft. 

“Of course, Father, Your Grace,” she says turning away. Gendry nods to them as well and joins Arya in the middle of the ring. Jon follows.

———

After lunch in the yard. Arya spends the rest of the afternoon with him and Jon teaching them the foot work that her instructor taught her. It’s complicated and they keep stumbling but Arya is patient. She is going over a particularly complicated step when Sansa and Myrcella appear. Gendry hadn’t realized how late it had become. The sun was beginning to set and he suspected it was time for dinner. 

“Mayhaps we should stop for today?” Arya suggests as both Gendry and Jon stumble again. 

“To be continued tomorrow,” Jon says. They walk over to the girls and Myrcella smiles broadly at them.

“Working hard?” she asks handing Gendry a cup. He drinks the water gratefully. 

“They are,” Arya answers for him. “They’ve got most of it now.” Arya’s encouragement makes Gendry smile. 

“They aren’t the only ones!” Sansa smiles broadly. “I’ve just finished it.” She tells Arya excitedly. “Will you wear it to dinner?” Gendry is very confused. 

“Of course Sans,” Arya says. 

“Don’t wait for us, we’ll walk ourselves down.” Myrcella tells him. Arya hops over the fence gracefully and disappears with Myrcella and Sansa. 

“What was that about?” Gendry asks Jon as they head to their chambers to wash before dinner. 

“Haven’t a clue,” Jon responds. “Meet you down there.” Jon says heading towards his room.

———

They next time Gendry sees Arya is for dinner. 

He is already in the great hall along with Jon, and Bran. There was music and most of the Stark’s men sat in the hall already. 

Gendry is very comfortable with the Starks. He’s been coming to Winterfell since his fifth name day and the Starks would often visit King’s Landing though Arya and Jon often stayed behind on these trips. Arya simply did not like the south and Jon didn’t come because as he liked to put it ‘bastards are not welcomed in court’. That usually left Bran, Sansa, and the King, himself, as part of the trips to court.

King Stark often left Arya and Jon in charge of Winterfell and on the last trip he’d brought Jon so he could train with Gendry’s Uncle Jamie. Leaving Arya alone in the north. Gendry’s father questioned the decision, but King Stark has assured him that his daughter was capable of handling the responsibility. Gendry knew that Arya was loved, as well as respected by King Stark’s men, and all the men in the North for that matter. The King’s men doted on her constantly, always trying to impress her, Gendry had found this odd at first but that was the effect Arya had on people. The men, though they respected her brother and sister, favoured the younger princess always. She insisted they call her Arya but most had settled on her nickname ‘Wolf Princess’

When Sansa and Myrcella walked in wearing beautiful pink and orange gowns, respectively. They paused at the door and both retreated out for a moment. He heard a rustling and then… Arya had walked in arm in arm with Sansa and Myrcella his breath had stopped. 

It was one of those moments where the entire world seems to slow down. All he saw was her. The dress was incredible. A light blue, like the sky on a sunny day, it had long sleeves and it simmered in the candle light. Arya looked stunning, but as Gendry looked closer her understood why she wasn’t protesting wearing this dress. It was clearly hand made, Sansa’s work, and fitted onto the bodice were small medal plates, amour. 

The sleeves hugged her small but defined shoulders and on them there was an intricate pattern of steel and stitches. The fabric came from the sleeves over her chest modestly just under her collar bones. The fabric was lose over her chest but tightened underneath it. Below her breasts, across her ribs, there were small long plates of flat steel all hand made and somehow fashioned to the dress. They continued round the dress defining her waist and hips. The skirt had some steel too but these pieces were small, triangular, they caused the simmering as the light danced off of them. Gendry had never seen anything more beautiful in his life. Arya wore her hair in a braid that was pulled forward over right shoulder and a bright smile on her face. 

There was an audible gasp as they walked through the crowd and Gendry was suddenly aware that his mouth was open. He shut it. The three girls walked up to the head table to take their seats. As they made their way through the crowd Arya address some of her men, laughing and smiling at the stunned looks on their faces. 

“I am a women you know,” she says to one of the men, her father’s guard. He laughs and bows to her.

“I’ll keep that in mind next time I kick your ass in the ring, my Wolf Princess.” The man returns. 

“Don’t you mean when I kick your ass?” Arya returns. 

The girls reach them. They sit. Gendry sees Myrcella lean over to whisper something to Arya and Sansa and they all burst out laughing. 

“Sorry, I’m looking for my sister Arya,” Jon jests his eyes searching around the room.

“Stupid!” Arya laughs. 

“Doesn’t she look positively beautiful?” Myrcella asks Gendry. Gendry look to Arya, she grey eyes are on him with an expression he doesn’t recognize. 

“Of course.” Gendry replies. “You look stunning.” He says looking directly back into Arya’s grey eyes. He sees a light blush in her cheeks. Arya mumbles something and Sansa looks at her reproachfully.

“Sansa is going to help me make one!” She tells him excitedly. Gendry smiles at his sister. He likes that she is so excited. He secretly thinks that their mother would never allow Myrcella to wear such as dress but he keeps his mouth shut as Myrcella’s eyes sparkle. 

His father and Lord Stark enter the room. They all stand as the men enter. 

“Well don’t the ladies look wonderful this evening,” King Stark says making his way to his seat. King Robert follows and Gendry can see his father staring at Arya. 

“You’re the spitting image of you Aunt, perhaps even more beautiful.” Robert father finally says after ogling Arya for a long moment. Arya looks uncomfortably at her father.

“Thank you, your Grace,” Arya says politely. Gendry sees her shift uncomfortably, again, under Robert’s gaze. Robert continues to leer at Arya. Lord Stark notices.

“You look like you Arya,” King Stark tells his daughter kindly. Arya gives him a small smile. As everyone sits down Gendry notices Lord Stark takes the seat next to him offering Robert his own. 

As dinner begins Gendry is very grateful for Ned Stark’s presence between himself and his father because he wants very much to go punch the man in the face. Robert is three goblets of wine ahead of everyone else and it’s making his brain disconnect from decency, though Gendry supposes this is nothing new for his father. 

“So much like my Lyanna. So beautiful, and fiery. She should come over here and sit by me.” He is mumbling. Gendry tightens his jaw and clenches his fist around his fork. “So beautiful, should come sit on my c—“ Gendry stands up and begins clenching his fist and striding towards his father when Lord Stark’s voice stops him.

“I THINK,” Ned Stark says. “It is time everyone went to bed.” His eyes come to Gendry and he gives him a small shake of the head. “Arya I would appreciate it if you would walk Prince to his room. I need a word with his father. Jon if you would escort Myrcella, and Bran, Sansa.” King Stark instructs. Gendry can see King Stark’s jaw line is set, he’s never seen the King in the North angry but he supposes that this is close. Gendry hears a rustle of fabric behind him and the scraping of chairs. Arya appears next to him. He unclenches his fist immediately. She takes his hand unabashed. 

“Come on stupid,” she tells Gendry in a low kind voice. He lets himself be lead out of the room by the girl. When they are in the hallway she snaps her head to him and scowls. 

“What were you going to do? Hit him?” Arya asks. 

“Something like that,” Gendry replies. She is leading him through the castle walking ahead of him, her small hips swaying side to side. 

“Don’t be stupid. He’s your father, the King,” Arya wasn’t really one to follow rules so this answer surprises him. “Plus, I don’t need you defending me. I can do that for myself.” There is the Arya he knows. 

“I wasn’t doing it for you.” Gendry tells her, it’s a lie. “Just because he is King doesn’t mean he can act like an ass, your father never is. He’s here on business and shouldn’t be getting drunk or be staring at women, even if they are as beautiful as you.” Arya stops. Gendry expects her to get angry. He braces his arm for her punch. But, Arya never does as he expects.

“Sansa, Myrcella are beautiful. My mom was beautiful. I’m not.” She looks down at her shoes. 

“Arya can I tell you what I think?” Gendry asks. She looks up at him. "You won't hit me?" Her grey eyes narrowed and she gives him a curt nod. 

“I think you are beautiful. I think that dress is incredible. But I also thought you were beautiful this afternoon when you kicked my ass sparing. I also thought you looked beautiful when you were playing with Nymeria and when we went riding the other day. I think you are beautiful all the time.” Gendry looks at her. He is nervous. Arya is standing very still, she bites her lower lip. 

“Okay,” she says. 

“I also think that you are a badass all the time,” Gendry says playfully. She smiles at him. 

“Okay,” she repeats. 

“Okay,” he returns. She grabs his hands and heads back down the hall. She is marching ahead him. 

“You really think that?” she asks from in front. 

“Every word,” Gendry tells her. They reach his room. Gendry thinks that perhaps he should feel odd that she is bringing him to his room and not the other way around. Arya smiles at him. It’s a confident, natural smile. 

“Wanna go riding before sparring tomorrow?” she asks him. He nods. 

Then Arya does something unexpected, like always. She reaches her hand around his neck and pulls him down to her. She kisses his cheek very gently. She keeps her lips there for a long moment, pressing them fully against his cheek. Her lips are warm and Gendry can feel a blush spread to his cheeks. She pulls away quickly withdrawing her hand. “Good, night Gendry.” She disappears. 

Gendry enters his room. He disrobes and tries not think about Arya. It does not work. Gendry ends up having very nice dreams that night involving Arya Stark and himself, and substantial lack of clothing on both of their parts. 

———

They next morning when he met her in the stables he can’t help blushing. He busies himself with the saddle of his horse so she won’t notice. On most occasions Gendry and Arya go out with guards but Arya had managed to convince her father that they wouldn’t be needed today. 

Gendry was very happy to be riding with just Arya. She was graceful on her horse, unlike him. Gendry was improving but still not comfortable in the saddle, something Arya never let him forget. They rode across the field and into the wood at the side of Winterfell. Arya had a slight blush in her cheeks now from the cold. They slowed when they got to a particular deep section of the forest. 

“If you could go anywhere in the world where would you go?” Arya asks him suddenly. 

“To visit?” he clarifies and she nods. “Probably across the Narrow sea, Bravos maybe?” Arya looks surprised at this answer. 

“Why?”

“I just want to go somewhere where I am just Gendry. Not my Lord or your Grace. I just want to be me.” Gendry confesses this to her. He’s thought this a very long time but has never voiced this secret desire to anyone. 

“You are ‘just Gendry’ here.” Arya points out as her horse weaves it’s way through the forest a few feet away from him. 

“I know,” Gendry says. “You asked somewhere I wanted to visit.” He pauses until she is looking back at him. “I would want Winterfell to be my home.” 

Arya’s face is filled with six million emotions and Gendry cannot read a single one. She urges her horse towards him and stops next to him. They are in a small clearing and she’s pulled her horse alongside his so their legs touch. She scrutinizes his face for a long moment, there is a small crease in her brow. 

“You should stay then,” Arya tells him simply. 

“And how pray tell do you plan on arranging that?” Gendry asks. Arya shrugs. Then, unexpectedly, she reaches over her eyes hungry. She is leaning out of her saddle straining her lips to reach his and Gendry reaches for her as well. They both end up sliding clumsily off their horses desperately trying to connect their lips. 

When they do Gendry groans. Her lips are warm on his and she presses her entire body into his own. Gendry can feel the swell of her breast against his chest, his arms reach around to grab her behind. Arya jumps slightly as his hands land there. She laughs and then proceed to copy him. He can feel her small hands on his arse squeezing it before moving up his back into his hair. 

His lips trace hers and when she finally opens her lips Gendry feels the small vibration of a moan in the back of her throat. He breaths out through his nose sharply because he realizes that he hasn’t taken a breath in a long time. Arya disconnects her lips from is panting. He moves his lips to her neck, kissing, sucking, and biting the sweet flesh. She smells intoxicating and he breaths in the scents as his lips ravage her. 

Arya gives a little whine of impatience as he continues to focus on her neck. Her small hand comes up under his chin and she captures his lips again. Gendry lets her tongue explore his mouth as he runs his hands up her back. One wraps around her drawing her against his chest, the other finds the back of her neck and he lets his thumb rest in behind her ear. Gendry groans in appreciation as Arya’s small hands find their way under his furs and now are running along his chest. Arya pulls her lips away and starts in on his neck. 

“Gods Arya,” Gendry breathes. She feels her chuckle. He lifts her off the ground suddenly and pins her against the tree. She groans and Gendry feels himself harden breath the layers of clothing. His hands work their way through her clock, he pulls her tunic out of her breaches where it is tucked in and is rewarded with the feeling of her flesh on his hands. 

“You hands are cold,” Arya complains before shoving her lips against his again. Gendry chuckles under the kiss. He’s hands slide up her slight body, over the strong stomach muscles, across her ribs and finally to the bottom of her breast. She shivers as he touches them and he pauses. 

“Is this okay?” He asks her pulling back from the kiss. Her hands rest in his hair and she smiles. 

“Yes,” she says. Gendry is surprised at how shy her voice is. He kisses her and gives her breast a tentative squeeze. Arya moans and her eyes close automatically throwing her head against the tree. He explores her breast more, easily fitting them into his hands. He feels the small nipples under his hand and Arya groans yet again as he caresses them. 

“Seven hells,” she swears. She wraps her legs around his waist a Gendry has the mind to take her right there right then. She grinds her hips against breaches and Gendry breathes in sharply. 

Arya captures his mouth yet again pushing down on his neck for more leverage. Gendry slips and they fall into the snow. Arya completely on top of him. She burst out laughing and he joins in. After a moment he reaches up and pushes her hair from her face.

“You are beautiful,” he whispers. Arya blushes but doesn’t look away. Instead she sits up straddling him her hips over his. Gendry groans and he grinds his hips into her without being consciously aware of the action, she reciprocates in kind.

“Stop,” he tells her. She does. “I want to be clear to. I love you with all my heart.” Gendry proclaims. Arya nods. He captures his lips again.

“Stop,” she mumbles through his lips. He does. “I want to be clear. I am not leaving the North. I will not lay down my sword or entertain ladies for tea. I will fight and rule and govern the North as I always have.” Gendry nods at this. He never expected her to stop being her. Arya then smiles. She lowers herself slowly to begin kissing him again. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Let my know what you think!


End file.
